


broken cobblestones

by cazrhys



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazrhys/pseuds/cazrhys
Summary: For years, they ignored their feelings
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	broken cobblestones

The first time Feyre spots Rhysand, she's a sobbing mess as she flutters through the snow-coated streets, the name she's crying out hardly decipherable.

The five-year-old girl's shoes are on the wrong feet as she worriedly looks for her cat. It's only then that she doesn't know where she is. Feyre shifts towards the nearest house, much larger than her own. She knocks on the door, a boy answers and looks at her with wide eyes. "I can't find Elizabeth!" She wails. The boy looks around, biting his lip. "Who are you?" He asks. Feyre, missing her two front teeth, looks younger than she is. "Fe-Feyre," She tells him, wiping her snot on her sleeve.

The boy grimaced, looking around. "Well, Feyre, it's cold. Do you want to come inside?"

She shakes her head, "My father says not to go into a stranger's house. I need Elizabeth. Nesta and Elain will be so, _so_ mad at me if I don't bring her home," Feyre cried. "She's all white with big—" Feyre uses her fingers to widen her eyes. "—white eyes. Lorna had to go home and couldn't help me so I went out by myself."

"Well, where do you live?" Rhysand asked. He slips on his blue rain boots (not very suitable for the cold) and steps into the snow. "We have to be super quick though. My parents will be mad at me."

In the end, they find Elizabeth hiding in a bush, and it's the start of a long-lasting relationship.

Now, several years later, Feyre sits in the large cafeteria, eating at a pudding cup, fumbling with a note. Morrigan, Rhysand's cousin, sits across from her, a beige tray in her hand. "What's that? Where's Lorna?" Mor asks. Feyre stares at the folded paper, "It's from Ianthe. It says Rhysand likes me. Lorna's visiting her cousin. It was a last-minute thing,"

Mor beams, wagging her eyebrows. "Really? Let me see," Feyre pulls the note away. "I don't believe it. We all know how Ianthe is. Remember the whole Nina and Cassian thing? I'd rather not get a whole repeat of that," Her hands are stained with black charcoal, refusing to come off even after scrubbing her hands raw.

"Ask him!" Mor urges. She waves at Andy when she walks by. "No. It'll be embarrassing if I thought it was true. Besides, isn't he into Amarantha?" Not that Feyre abided by high school stereotypes but Rhysand and Amarantha made so much more sense than her and Rhysand. Sometimes, she wondered if Rhysand looked at her and saw the girl wandering the street in her pink pajamas crying for a cat.

"You should! We all know Ianthe is an absolute shit starter but maybe she's right this time? Even a broken clock is right twice and day," Mor opens her salad, the loud creaking as the plastic gave way. She pours ranch into it before closing and shaking vicariously. Feyre bites her lip in uncertainty. She's had a crush on Rhysand since the start of sophomore year. When they were younger, Lorna had called dibs and Feyre respected that.

Except, Feyre mentioned it last week and Lorna had no memory of it. After all, Lorna was busy dating a girl named Irene. "Just ask," Mor explains.

Sighing, Feyre relents. "Fine. Fine."

Now, Feyre is sprawled across Rhysand's bed. The latter sitting in a large bean bag chair. "How's Lucien?" He asks after a moment. Feyre hums before replying. "Fine. He's going to therapy now and I don't think he wants to come back.

"I wouldn't," Rhysand murmurs. Feyre agrees. "So... Prom. Are you still going?" Feyre's heart flutters as she sits up. "Kinda. I don't have a date but I'll be going with a group of friends,"

"So you aren't going with Tamlin?" Rhysand hesitantly asks. Feyre balks at him. "Absolutely not!" She grabs a pillow and throws it at him. Rhys let out a sigh of relief, freezing when Feyre asks. "You're not going with Amarantha?"

Rhysand laughs. "No — she's the type to cut all your tires and pour marbles in your gas tank," Feyre smiles, pulling out the note, folding it into a paper airplane, and tossing it toward him. "What is that?"

"A note. From Ianthe Rosedown. Quite interesting," Feyre says, keeping her face as neutral as she can. She didn't want to be responsible for running their decade long friendship over a rumor. So, she kept quiet. Like an idiot. She wishes she was as bold as Nesta. Nesta would just walk up to him and ask him out.

"Do you believe it?" Rhysand asks. She misses the worry in his voice. "Of course not. Why would I?" Feyre lies.

It isn't until the night of prom that it happens. Feyre's standing in a lilac dress, drinking punch that she sure has been mixed with vodka. Rhysand walks up to her, the night still young. "Ah. Young love," Rhysand jokes, watching Lorna in her lime green dress. She's pulled close to Irene, her black dress clashing with her hair beautifully.

"It's pretty," Feyre says, gesturing to the decorations. Rhysand nods, looking entirely at her. "It is,"

Feyre, feeling braver than usual, mostly due to the pep talk from Lorna and the alcohol coursing through her system, glances at him. "You're very handsome, Rhysand," His suit is something that looks like it belongs at a gala — not a high school dance.

"Thank you, Feyre darling. I must admit that you look marvelous," He replied. Feyre nodded. "Do you want to dance?"

Rhysand beams. "Of course,"

He leads her to the edge of the crowd, spotting Mor and Andy in the center. Without a doubt, they were going to win homecoming king and queen. Instead of a dress, Mor wore a velvet black tuxedo.

The songs switched, pulling into a slow one. Rhysand's hand laid on her hips, swaying side to side. She swears she can feel the heat there. "I... I have to talk to you. I understand if you don't feel the same way but hear me out, okay? Ianthe was right about the note. I do love you,"

Feyre froze before smiling so harshly her cheeks throbbed. Rhys pulled away, his face tinged with red and regret. Feyre grabbed him by the front of his suit. "Rhysand Nightfall, you absolute fool. I love you, too,"

Rhysand cups her face, her heart hammering so harshly it hurts. Their noses press against one another, his lips softer than she thought they'd be.

"I love you, Feyre Archeron," He chuckles, kissing her until he can't think properly. 


End file.
